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Heating Up
{|style="width:100%; color:#FFF;" |valign="top" style="padding:5px;"| "Oh. My." Those were Doctor Halsey's first words as she entered Noble Base, hastily removing her scarf and goggles so she could gawk at the decorations… and the company. Upon her entry, Jacob Keyes had immediately ceased his conversation with Miranda and stood up, while Miranda remained seated and eyed Halsey with an icy, almost hostile demeanor. Halsey looked around, taking in the sights and sounds, and her keen blue eyes flitted from the tree to the ODSTs to Kat's bright red velvet shirt. It took her a moment to accept that this was indeed reality, and she took a few more steps inside, snow sliding off her coat. Jacob Keyes walked straight toward her and held out both hands. "May I?" he asked, and she turned so he could pull off her snow-caked coat. He slung it over a nearby chair and then half-smiled, still handsome despite his years. "It's been too long, Catherine," he said, his voice, so used to giving orders, oddly gentle. "Okay people, Spartans coming through," Jun announced, ruining the somewhat dear reunion. He shuffled through the doorway and sighed in dismay as a pile of snow formed at his feet, then hurried out of the way as Jorge came in, Six in tow. Her armor was covered in literal icicles. The Spartans hastily made their way toward the armory, and Kat took it upon herself to follow them, worried over the fact that Six was not walking on her own. Everyone stared after them, then went back to their business. Halsey wiped her feet on the mat, shaking off the excess snow, and was surprised when Jacob took her by the hand and almost dragged her further in. "Really, Jacob, I wish I could stay, but I have many important and pressing matters to attend to, so if I could please use this base's comm unit—" "Ah, I understand. I just thought maybe we could take a few minutes, catch up on a few things?" Halsey shook her head. "Perhaps another time…" Keyes kept a straight and polite face, but his eyes held more than a bit of disappointment. "I understand. I've been on a short leash lately myself." Halsey glanced over at Miranda, who was pretending to be very interested in the ceiling, and her face fell somewhat. "Miranda…" she muttered under her breath, almost wistfully. She looked up at Jacob. "I really must be on my way as soon as possible." With that, she moved away from him and started walking toward the hallway, determined not to show any more emotion than she already had. It certainly wouldn't do… she'd burned her bridges and wasn't in the mood to rebuild them anytime soon. Besides… she was sure that Miranda wouldn't want her to, anyway. ::In the armory… Six shivered as Kat hastily removed parts and pieces of her armor. The body glove underneath was sopping wet and had even partially frozen to her skin. Kat turned on a heat light overhead and it started to work; the body glove detached from her skin and Kat was able to yank some of it off. It came off in sections, and Kat left the chest and groin sections on after all the armor had been pulled away. "You poor thing," Kat sighed, giving Six a towel, which she made good use of. The feeling was returning to her extremities and it hurt, but she wasn't about to complain. "You really were about to be a Spartan popsicle, weren't you?" "You could—''ACHOO''—say that," Six mumbled, wiping her nose on her arm. Then Kat rounded on Jorge, who was taking off his armor piece by piece on a different table. "And you! I understand you were trying to help Six, but walking around in this weather without a helmet on is like asking for pneumonia!" Jorge, who was still dusted with snow on the shoulders of his armor, shrugged, dislodging the snow. "I'll live," he grunted, pulling off his left gauntlet. He walked over to Six, who had wrapped the towel around like a blanket in an effort to get warm, and shook his head. "Gah, look at ya. Your face is all red. Bet you've got a fever," he grumbled. "How do you feel?" "Cold. Can't really breathe through my nose," Six replied. Her voice sounded nasal and stuffy. Then she grinned slightly and pointed at his face. "Your mustache. It's still frozen," she said, then coughed. "Well, well, well, look what the blizzard blew in," Emile said lazily, strolling into the armory with Rosenda on one arm. "Don't tell me you morons went swimming." "Involuntarily," Six sniffled. "What's this, then?" Jorge asked, eyeing the pair. "What's it look like?" Emile shot back. "Oh, come on, be nice," Rosenda chided, smacking Emile's arm lightly. "Define 'nice'," Emile said slyly, curling one arm around her waist… with his hand dangerously close to her backside. Rosenda squirmed uncomfortably. "I swear, tonight you will have nightmares about being anally probed by psychotic Grunts!" "Ouch," Jun chimed, from his corner of the armory. The sniper had removed all of his armor and changed into his uniform, and was adjusting the sleeves. "That's cruel." Kat held a small scanner up to Six and frowned when it beeped. "Yep, Jorge was right. You're running a low-grade fever. From the looks of this, it's going to keep going up unless you keep warm and drink something, preferably something warm." Six opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a violent sneeze. "Anyway, Carter thought we'd all settle down for dinner in about an hour. How's that sound? I know I'm lookin' forward to some cranberries," Emile said. "Now, if only we had some fried Jackal to go with it, then it'd be perfect." "Ugh. Instead we have Moa burgers," Rosenda mused with loathing. "Because the Marines are all barbarians." "Hey, I like Moa burgers," Jun protested. "They're like, the trademark fast food of Reach. There's pride in that!" "They're greasy and fattening and uncivilized and… and… uncultured!" Rosenda sputtered. "I mean, do we eat French fries at military banquets? NO. Same goes for Christmas. It's special." "I don't care what we eat," Six said, clearing her throat. "It's gonna be special anyway. At least, for me it is." "Well said," Kat remarked, crossing her arms. "All right then. Six, you put some decent clothes on and try to make yourself comfortable; we don't want that fever climbing any higher. Everyone else, out! Let the woman change in peace!" She shooed the other Spartans out the door, even though Jorge wasn't all the way through getting his armor off yet. ::In the rec room… "Okay, I want a confession now! Why are you people laughing behind my back!" Buck demanded, approaching Romeo and Mickey, who remained straight-faced even though the garish red Christmas bow stuck in their superior's hair made them want to cackle like hens. "Um, we're not laughing at you, Gunny," Mickey answered innocently. "We just, uh, have this private joke that you wouldn't get." "And why wouldn't I get it?" "Because… just because! You just wouldn't." "Why do I not believe you right now?" Buck sighed. "Because you live in denial?" Romeo offered. Buck pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He would get to the bottom of this, he swore to himself. He would find out why everybody kept whispering and pointing at him! Or it was going to drive him mad! "Rookie!" Buck yelled, stalking toward the Private, who was busy hanging more gold ornaments on the tree. The Rookie turned immediately and straightened in front of his superior, saluting. "Put your hand down, Lance Corporal. I want a straight answer. Do you know why everyone is snickering at me behind my back?" The Rookie shook his head, no. His eyes were very wide and meaningful and void of deceit. Buck sighed, clapping the Rookie on the shoulder as he walked by. "Thanks a lot, Rook." The Rookie breathed a sigh of relief once Buck had gone. The "wide and innocent eyes" routine was really starting to work on his teammates after all. Buck walked into the dining room and found Dare standing there alone, contemplating the tables that had been laid out for everyone to sit at. She was still in full armor, her hair tied back in a stern manner. She reminded him of a living, breathing ice sculpture sometimes. He wasn't about to ask her for a date, but it would be nice if she'd at least try being friendly, he thought. "Hey," he said, getting her attention. She turned to look at him. "Whatcha up to?" "Well, I'm still trying to accept that all of this is actually happening, plus I'm imagining with dread what my superior officers' responses are going to be once I tell them all about this little snag in our simulation, but mostly…" She sighed. "Surprisingly, I am hungry." "Ha, that's the spirit. Can't be a Scrooge when the mess hall smells like this," Buck remarked, inhaling deeply. "So… what's your family doin' for Christmas? Mine's probably all drunk as skunks by now." "My family…" Dare frowned. "How is that any of your business, Gunnery Sergeant?" "Hey, hey, I was just askin'," Buck defended himself, raising both hands in a placating gesture. "No need to get all huffy." Dare shook her head and sighed again. "For once, Buck, you're right," she muttered reluctantly. "All right then. My family's probably having a perfectly wonderful Christmas without me, because the minute I joined ONI, I was as good as dead to them." She glared at him. "Is that all you wanted to know?" "Oh…" Buck was taken aback. "Veronica, I'm—" "Sorry? Don't be. It won't fix anything." Dare waved one hand dismissively. Buck draped one arm over her shoulders in a brotherly manner. "Aw, don't be like that. This is Christmas, for crying out loud! We could at least try to make it a merry one. Together." Dare scowled, then the scowl dissolved and she rolled her eyes. "I can't believe I'm going along with this… but fine. I guess it wouldn't hurt to let my hair down a little." As Buck guided her out of the mess hall and into the rec room, he felt a small surge of hope. Maybe he could finally convince some of the other ODSTs that "Princess Evil" really wasn't so evil after all. ::In the armory… Six stifled another sneeze as she finished drying her hair with a towel. She had slipped on some sweat pants and was trying to get her head dry before she put on her sweater. Satisfied that her hair was no longer damp, she picked up the woolen sweater and pulled it on, trying to figure out which holes were meant for her arms and neck. The door opened while she was still locked in this epic struggle and she hastily pulled it down, then turned to see Jorge standing there, looking rather embarrassed. "Uh… sorry about that, Jun said you'd gone back to quarters—" "No, no… it's fine. See, I'm already done." Six tried to smile, but was interrupted by a sneeze. Jorge shut the door behind him, still clad halfway in the SNOWSTORM armor. "Just thought I'd finish prying off the rest of this junk. It's a bit uncomfortable, really. I highly doubt this stuff was ever intended for Spartan-IIs." "Here, I'll help," Six offered. She went around and started unlatching the straps that connected one shoulder piece to the torso armor. "Thanks, by the way… for carrying me, and all that." "My pleasure." The armor disengaged with a pop, and Six set it down on the table before moving on to another section. "Can't imagine how it must've felt, getting all that icy water in your suit." "It wasn't comfy, I'll say that," Six mused. She tapped her forefinger against the armor component she'd just detached, feeling a sneeze coming on, then grimaced as it came out in a gigantic AH-CHOO. "Ugh… I hate this so, so much." Now free of the constricting torso armor, Jorge rolled his shoulders, and Six stared. It was hard not to. Even though they'd known each other long enough to get used to their differences, Six still found herself somewhat amazed by how much…bigger… the Spartan-II was than his III brethren. Perhaps her fascination ran deeper than that, but she wasn't about to admit it to herself. "Something wrong, Six? You're looking flushed all of a sudden," Jorge remarked, brow creasing in concern. He put one hand on her shoulder, facing her. "Perhaps we should find you some meds." "No, I'm fine," Six managed, shaking her head. "Really, I'm fine." The small fluttery feeling deep in the pit of her stomach said otherwise, but as usual, she wasn't going to acknowledge it just yet.